


The question

by kate_the_reader



Series: Going Home [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Christmas, Eames made a promise. Now it's time to ask a question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The question

**Author's Note:**

> Always, thank you to chasingriver, wonderfully perceptive and supportive.

Eames has been paying attention. 

Since his Christmas promise, he has been following the progress of the case through the courts. He could ask now, of course. He has already, really. And Arthur has answered. But Eames is sentimental, and he intends to keep his promise: "When the government lets me ask the question, I will." 

Marriage was never something he thought much about, before Arthur. And even then, it crept up on him. The idea started to form after he met Arthur's family. 

Arthur had shrugged off his interest in his past, at first. But Eames is persistent when he wants something and he was rewarded with Arthur in Hayes. Arthur with a family. 

It's something he wants more of. When Arthur had said, as his "thankful": "I'm thankful for family. I'm so thankful for you", Eames had known he'd do almost anything to be Arthur's family. 

At first, he had thought it would be enough to be together. After all, what did they care for laws and social convention? They spent their working life going from country to country flouting the law in each one, they didn't need an official document to be a family, did they? 

But during the next year, Eames had thought of Arthur's wistful regret about his father and his parents' failed marriage, which seemed to have died of neglect, from what Eames can tell, and decided that he wanted more for them. 

So he had started to pay attention to the news, to the back and forth of now you can marry and now you can't again. They could move from California, of course. There are other places. But Arthur loves Silver Lake, and Eames loves Arthur in Silver Lake. It suits Arthur — the reservoir, the sloping streets, the good restaurants. And then Arthur, out for a run, sees the house and falls in love, and of course they can't leave after that. 

So Eames pays attention, and he waits. 

But then he thinks, "How long do we have to wait?" He thinks about what he wants this to mean. He sketches an infinity symbol on the back of a business card. Refines it on some hotel stationery during a job in Phuket that Arthur isn't part of, and takes it to the jeweler. He thinks of Arthur's crisp shirts, and imagines this symbol at Arthur's wrists every day. He imagines how Arthur will look when he puts them into his cuffs in the morning, and when he takes them out at the end of the day. How they might lie on the nightstand in a hotel. How they will nestle in the little dish Arthur has on his dresser at home. 

The day he fetches them, he buys the tickets to London. 

He watches Arthur fall a bit in love with Eames's own parents, and as he shows his younger self to Arthur, he knows, even more completely, that he is doing the right thing. 

So Eames is paying attention. 

But then, wouldn't you know, he is stuck on an awful, boring job in Dublin, of all places, on his own, when the news breaks. 

Of course, he and Arthur text when one of them is away, and talk on the phone, and Skype, but Eames isn't about to ask like that. He’s sentimental, after all. And Arthur deserves the best Eames can give him, always. 

The trip back home is worse than usual, all the petty irritations of travel magnified by his urgent need to get there and keep his promise. Finally, the plane touches down. As soon as the seatbelt lights go off, he gets out his phone, calls Arthur. 

It rings unanswered and goes to voicemail. Arthur knows he’s coming home this evening, has nothing scheduled, as far as Eames knows. Where on earth can he be? 

“Darling, I'm nearly home,” he says, a little plaintively, he can hear. 

Eames gets a cab, leaning forward as if his eagerness can make the traffic on the freeway open up. He texts: “Where are you love?” But there is no reply and no indication Arthur has even seen the message. 

Eames calls Cobb. “D’you know where Arthur is?” he asks, without even a greeting. 

“No,” says Cobb, “Haven't seen him since … Monday. We had coffee.” 

“He knows I'm coming home,” says Eames, allowing an annoyed edge into his voice at Cobb’s lack of concern. “Are you sure he’s alright?” 

“He’s probably gone for a run,” says Cobb. “Left his phone at home …” 

“No,” says Eames, cutting across him. “Not this time of day. And you know Arthur doesn't leave his phone at home.” 

“Well, I'll call if I hear anything,” says Cobb, but Eames is already hanging up. 

“Is there a shorter route, mate?” he asks the cabdriver. The man just shrugs. Eames slumps back in frustration. An LA cabdriver is not the same as a London cabbie. 

He calls Ariadne. “Arthur tell you where he was going?” he asks. 

“Um, no,” she says. “Not a word, I promise …” She trails off. “Maybe he’s gone for a run, left his phone at home,” she says. 

“He hasn't gone for a bloody run,” Eames snaps, immediately contrite. “Sorry, sorry, Ari,” he says. “It’s so unlike Arthur. He knows I'm coming home, and now he’s just …” 

“Eames!” Ariadne says sharply. “He’s okay. He’s okay, alright?” 

“How do you know, though,” says Eames. He can hear the panic in his voice now. He hadn’t allowed himself to think … that … before. But now he doesn't know what to think. 

He checks the local traffic site. No accidents reported. He considers the police. He thinks of Skippy. 

He rings Skippy. “Did Arthur say he was going anywhere?” he asks in a rush when she picks up. 

“Hello, Eames,” says Skippy. “What? No. I haven’t spoken to him since Monday.” 

“No one has!” Eames says, his voice hitching. “No one has!” 

“But you have, haven’t you?” Skippy reminds him. 

Eames lets his breath out in a shaky rush. 

“Yes. I spoke to him last night,” he says. “Of course. Thank you, Skippy. Sorry I snapped,” he says. “It’s so unlike him, though,” he says. “I panicked.” 

“I'm sure he’s fine, Eames,” she says. “He’s probably gone to the grocery store and got stuck in traffic. You’re always complaining about the traffic there.” 

He doesn’t tell Skippy why he’s so strung out about Arthur’s silence. And why he’d been so sure Arthur wouldn't have left the house when he was expecting Eames. 

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it?” she says. “About the marriage licenses, I mean.” 

“What? Yes, wonderful!” he says. “Yes, it's marvelous news.” 

“Arthur told me on Monday the court was supposed to rule this week. He was so excited,” says Skippy. 

Yes, thinks Eames. He was so excited and now I’ve gone and fucked it up and where _the hell_ is Arthur? 

The cab turns into their street and stops at 505. Eames almost falls out and stumbles through the gate, up the steps, into the house. 

No Arthur. 

“Darling!” he calls. “I'm home.” 

Of course Arthur won't answer. Why would he be sitting at home with his phone off? 

Eames drops his bag in the entryway and follows the trail of Arthur down the hallway. 

“Oh, my love, where are you?” he says to the still house. “Where are you?” 

In the bedroom, he falls on the bed and curls up. “Where are you, love?” he whispers into Arthur’s pillows. 

The front door opens and Eames hears Arthur trip over his bag. “Oh my god, Eames!” he shouts. “Oh god,” he says, running in the bedroom door. 

Eames has jumped up and he flings himself at Arthur. 

“Oh darling. Oh love,” he gasps. “Oh my love,” he says into Arthur’s neck. “Oh Arthur, oh Arthur.” 

“God, Eames,” says Arthur, voice shaking, “I went out … to get something and the traffic was so bad and there was a crash on the I-50 and my phone died and I knew you were coming home and … Oh god, Eames, shh, shh.” 

Arthur pulls back to look at Eames and rubs his thumb under his eyes, first one, then the other. 

“Darling, I was so worried. I didn't know what to think and everyone just kept saying maybe you’d gone for a run, maybe you’d left your phone at home and that just seemed so unlikely and I didn’t know what to think and now I’ve fucked it up anyway,” Eames says in a breathless rush. “I'm sorry, love.” 

“Oh Eames,” says Arthur, very softly, “Oh Eames.” He takes his hand and tugs him to the bed. Sits down and pulls Eames down next to him. “I'm here now. We’re here now,” he says. 

Eames leans against him, utterly wrung out from adrenaline. 

He takes a deep breath. “At Christmas, I made a promise. About how I'd ask the question.” 

He straightens up, rubs his hands down his face and turns to Arthur. He takes his hand and says, “Darling, will you marry me? Let’s get married. I want to be with you to infinity.” 

Arthur climbs into his lap and kisses and kisses him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” he breathes. “Yes!” 

He pushes Eames down on the bed and reaches into his own pocket. 

“I went to fetch something,” he says. “I'm so very sorry I wasn't here and that I scared you. I am so very sorry I fucked it up, Eames.” 

He opens his hand and shows Eames. 

Two platinum rings. An infinity symbol engraved on each. 

“Yes,” says Eames, very quietly. “Yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The final ruling allowing equal marriage in California was issued on June 28, 2013, after years of to-ing and fro-ing caused by Prop 8.


End file.
